Vae Victis
by Serenareads
Summary: Vulpes Inculta gets a strange task from Caesar: To investigate about the mysterious Courier, booster of morale for the NCR troopers,that everyone in the Mojave seems to talk about and get her to come to the Fort.
1. Cold,Cold Heart

**Author's note:** This is my first fanfiction so far. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I head while writing it. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>She smelled the fires long before she saw them. The reek of burning flesh got stronger with every step she took towards Nipton. Something terrible had happened here, the woman known as the Courier was sure of it. If she hadn't made a promise to Ghost she would have turned on her heels and ran away from Nipton as fast as her feet could take her. But since she had made a promise she forced herself to continue to walk in the direction the reek came from.<p>

When she arrived at Nipton a man came running across her. He looked like he cracked the jackpot at the Gomorrha and waved a piece of paper while running. The man came to halt in front of her. " I made it! I won the lottery!" he panted.

"What lottery?" the Courier asked clenching her teeth together. The reek of burning flesh was almost unbearable and threatened to make her throw up. She had never been good at handling offensive smells, even her work as a courier hadn't changed that fact.

"I won the motherfuckin' lottery! In front of the town hall! They spared my life! They killed so many but I made it! Miss Fortune was on my side today!" The man looked so happy and relieved, but not in any way the Courier had ever seen. He looked almost insane.

The Courier decided that it would be no use in asking the man who "they" were. The man didn't seem to be in a condition where he could answer such complex questions. She would have to see for herself what was going on in that goddamned town. Her hand twitched to the grip of the gun at her hip. She felt much better reminding herself that whatever she had to face at the town hall, she wouldn't have to do it unarmed. She sighed heavily and moved on.

_Crucifixion_. The word came to the Couriers numbed mind while wandering towards the town hall. There were wooden crosses with bodies bound on them. Some of the people were already dead. Some weren't. She frantically tried to get one of the crucified off the cross, but the man died before she could lay him on the ground. The reek of smoke, burning flesh and blood stung in her nose and her stomach revolted before she could pull herself together, she found herself throwing up behind a car wreck. _Get your damn act together!_ She thought to herself when she pulled out a bottle of water to rinse her mouth. She needed to know what the hell had happened here. Just how sick was whoever crucified those people? That almost crazy guy she met on her way had babbled something about winning the lottery. The people hanging on those crosses seemed to be the losers of that game. She forced herself to look at one of the crucified. He was dying and getting him off the cross wouldn't save him, as she had learned before. The Courier fought with herself. She couldn't just walk away doing nothing. In one of the books which survived the war, she read about crucifixions and that it took a long time until the victims were dead. In those ancient times she read about crucifixion was the capital punishment for the worst criminals, but whatever those people did, nobody deserved to die that way. A sound ripped the Courier from her thoughts. She needed a few moments to realize that the sound she heard came from one of those crucified Powder Gangers. His cracked lips parted, forming words but she couldn't catch what he was saying. She came closer, so she could look him in the eye. Broken, pleading eyes glanced back at her. "Please" The sound came out ragged, barely understandable. The Courier didn't need to ask what he was begging for.

"Are you sure?" she found herself asking, even though she knew how stupid that question was. That man would die no matter if she shot him or not. If she did nothing he would spend hours in mortal agony.

The man on the cross tried to grin, but it turned out as a bloody grimace of pain. "Please" he repeated, his eyes wandering from her face to the gun at her hip. The Courier locked her eyes to his, and reached for her gun. The silenced .22 pistol suddenly lay heavy in her hand when she unlocked the safety. It was mercy, she told herself. Shooting him was mercy. If she was the one hanging on the cross she would do the same. She couldn't save him. The only thing she could do for that man was ensuring that he died a quick death instead of a death struggle lasting for hours. The man's grey eyes grew calm when she lifted her arm and aimed at his head, her eyes never leaving his. She had the feeling that she should say something, some last words but nothing came to her usually fast working mind. She felt numb as she exhaled and pulled the trigger. The man was dead immediately.

Unable to stand the sight of blood dripping down on the ground beneath her, she turned and heading towards the Town hall after making sure that the other crucified Powder Ganger were already dead and she didn't had to "help" them the way she had helped the other man. She should've at least asked for his name, a tiny voice in her head said. But to what use?

She saw strangely dressed men standing in front of the town hall. The Courier cursed herself for not being more careful. She had been totally absorbed with thoughts of the man she just killed that she totally forgot to check if the people responsible for this massacre were still nearby. She very much liked to slap herself for her own stupidity, but the men had already spotted her. She briefly thought about running away but had to realize that she wouldn't make it very far since those men had dogs with them. She was a fast runner, but nowhere as fast as a dog chasing after his prey. The men looked at her direction, but they didn't make any efforts to pull their guns. Straightening her shoulders the Courier began to walk towards the men. Scanning her environment for possible cover if the men suddenly decided that she would make a nice victim for crucifixion next the Powder Gangers, she walked towards the group of soldiers. At least that was what she thought they were. On top of the town hall, someone had put up a flag. No, not a flag she thought, it was a standard. Legion, she thought. For the second time in only minutes she felt the urge to slap herself. Maybe the shot in the head really did scramble her eggs.

A man with a headgear that looked like a wolfs' head stepped forward, his eyes hidden under that strange fashion statement.

"Don't worry, I won't have you lashed to a cross like the rest of these degenerates." The man said, a cruel smile on his lips." It's useful that you happened by. I want you to witness the fate of Nipton, to memorize every detail. And then, when you move on, I want you to teach everyone you meet the lesson that Caesar's Legion thought here, especially any NCR troops you run across."

Shuddering inwardly the Courier worked up the guts to meet that wolf guys eyes. She always thought that brown eyes couldn't be cold eyes. But those man's eyes were the coldest eyes she had ever seen.

She forced herself to hold out against his cold remorseless gaze, fought the urge to lower her eyes. She wouldn't let them see her fear.

"And what exactly" she asked with slightly trembling voice," was the lesson you have been teaching here?"

His lips twitched. "Where to begin? That they are weak and we are strong? That much was known already. But the depths of their moral sickness, their dissolution? Nipton serves as the perfect object lesson."

The gaze of his fox-brown eyes seemed to pin her down; she couldn't get herself to move. A man, she thought who just ordered the crucifixion of the whole town as it seemed shouldn't give lessons about moral behaviour. Anger spiked while she listened to him talking about Nipton being a town of whores and how he herded them to the center of town and how he announced the lottery.

"Everyone clutched their ticket, hoping it would set them free. They did nothing when their "loved ones" were dragged away and killed." His voice grew mocking at the term "loved ones".

"So you slaughtered innocent civilians?", the Courier asked, her voice barely betraying the vicious fury the words of this man had induced in her. Her voice was just slightly trembling and she could detain herself from clenching her fists, her face a near perfect mask of faked calm.

"Innocent? Hardly." The wolf man retorted sarcastically. He had noticed her attempts to hide the fury that was simmering inside her, but she was not good enough fool him. He had heard the slight trembling in her voice, seen the way she flexed her fingers.

"They outnumbered us, yet not once did they try to resist. They just stood and watched as their fellows were butchered, crucified and burned, one by one. They stood and hoped that their turn would not come. Each cared only for himself." Finished, he shot the Courier a questioning glance. "So, what will you do, girl?"

"I will do as you ask." The Courier spat out. She was no fool, she knew that was the only answer the man would accept and that wouldn't get her killed on the spot. But that didn't mean that she didn't felt ashamed for bending to his will.

Those cold fox-brown eyes that had held her captive turned away from her, releasing the Courier from her inability to move.

"Then I bid you Vale – until we meet again." For one last time his eyes met hers.

The soldiers withdrew without worrying that she might shoot them in the back. The Courier thought of doing exactly that, just to show them that they were wrong in disregarding her. But all she could do was watching them being swallowed up by the Mojave, the smell of burning flesh stinging in her nose.


	2. Caesar's Task

2. Caesar's task

The man known by the name of Vulpes Inculta absently rubbed his stubbled jaw. After having spent weeks travelling the Mojave it was exquisite to sit in a tub of cold water and having scrubbed away the dust, sweat and the stench of blood that always clung to him when he returned to the Fort after an accomplished mission. He wished for nothing more than to relax a few moments before Caesar would call him to inform him about his next task that would undoubtedly take him to someplace without the luxury of a bath and a scalp massage done by the skilled hands of a slave. But much to his displeasure, the young barely trained slave was useless, her fingers trembling too much from fear.

Annoyed, he grabbed her wrist and forced her to look at him. "The Legion has no use for slaves that are unable to fulfil even the easiest task."

The girl started to tremble even more, silent tears running down her cheeks though he didn't even raise his voice. He didn't need to. Wasteland scum like her was scared easily. When he released the girl from his firm grip, he saw the imprints it made on her wrist. Petrified from fear, the girl looked at him with big eyes filled with tears awaiting her punishment. She couldn't have been a slave for long, he thought since she seemed to have none of the survival instincts the slaves of the Legion needed if they wanted to last longer than a few months.

"Now back off, worthless scum. You get away this time, but next time you'll have to serve Lanius and he isn't exactly the forgiving kind."

Glad to make it out of his tent alive and crying from relief, the girl turned on her heels and left the tent in a hurry in case her master reconsidered his decision to spare her this time.

Musing, Vulpes Inculta ran his fingers through his damp hair. He couldn't quite grasp why Lanius found it entertaining to torment the slaves. Most of them were weak and broken easily. Those slaves posed no challenge to him. And for Vulpes Inculta, nothing was more entertaining than a good challenge. The taste of victory was much sweeter when it took some effort to achieve it.

He heard footsteps in front of the tent. "Sir, the Son of Mars demands your presence in his tent." one of his recruits said, apparently hesitant to enter his tent. Good, he thought. Finally they had learned not to disturb him while he was taking a bath.

"I will join him in a few minutes." Inculta replied while grabbing a towel. Maybe he shouldn't have sent the slave away he mused. It was much more difficult to put on his armour without help. But in contrast to certain other members of the Legion he was very well able to do it by himself. It was disgraceful for a man to not being able to put on his armour without help.

"I have an assignment for you, Inculta." The man sitting on the throne said while rubbing his temples. Caesars headaches were getting worse lately, Vulpes Inculta thought.

"What do you want me to do, my Lord." He asked, his voice full of the respect he held for the man.

"I'm sure you heard the rumours spreading in the Wasteland. Rumours about an individual they call the Courier. I want you to investigate in that matter."

Vulpes Inculta frowned. It was unlike Caesar to order him to chase after a mere rumour. He too, had heard about that mysterious Courier who gained a lot of fame among the NCR and the other people inhabiting the Wastelands. While neither he nor any of his men had run across that person he had seen the impact the Courier had made on the morale of NCR troopers. Fighting them became harder and wasn't the almost easy task it had been in the last couple of months.

Caesar waved him to approach. "I want to talk to the individual that was able to induce such a boost of morale in the ranks of the NCR. But our information about the Courier is poor. We don't even know if the Courier is male or female. Once you have found the individual known as the Courier, hand him my mark and tell him Caesar summons him to the Fort."

Vulpes took the mark Caesar handed him with utmost care. It was a rare gift. Nodding he said "Consider it done. Word is, the Courier was seen in New Vegas entering the Lucky 38. It seems the best lead to start."

Waving approvingly, Caesar dismissed the leader of the Frumentarii. "I'm more than confident that you'll succeed. You're the leader of the Frumentarii for a reason."

Vulpes Inculta bent his head in front of Caesar and left the tent. It wouldn't take him long to pack the few things he would need for his trip to Vegas.


End file.
